The Untimely Death of Sherlock Holmes
by FangirlFangirlOnTheCeiling
Summary: I have been promising this since my last Sherlock fic. Basically Tully's POV in The Reichenbach Fall. Sequel to A New Case.
1. Chapter 1

**I have been promising this since my last Sherlock fic. I thought I'd finally get this up. Love and cupcakes, IamPinkiePie**

The newspaper articles had been flooding in ever since Sherlock recovered _Falls of the Reichenbach_. He was sick of it, John was sick of it, _I_ was sick of it. I never wanted this. I was happy just being in the low profile, non tabloid section of solving crime. Just with Sherlock and John. With my best friends. It was peaceful – well, in a non paparazzi way – and it felt...Good. And Sherlock was getting more aggravated with every coming newspaper. I hated seeing him like this.

I was in 221B with John and the object of my affections, Sherlock Holmes. I had admitted I had loved him ages ago. Had I said anything? Of course not. Sherlock threw a newspaper on the desk angrily as I flipped another page in my book.

"'Boffin'. 'Boffin Sherlock Holmes'." He said angrily. I shook my head.

"Everybody gets one." John told him.

"One what?" Sherlock asked. He took a seat next to me and I patted his back.

"Tabloid nickname. SuBo, Nasty Nick. Shouldn't worry – I'll probably get one soon." John noted.

"Page 5, column 6, first sentence." Sherlock leapt up and went over to his deer stalker hat, punching it with pure anger, "Why is it always the hat photograph?"

"Bachelor John Watson?" John asked, reading from the paper. I grabbed it from him, reading it.

"Oh Tully, if I were you, I wouldn't look at page 6 column _7 _first sentence. " Sherlock told me. I scanned to where he had told me.

"Apparently I'm _the surprisingly smart __**blonde**__._ Did they think I'd be dumb because I'm blonde?" I read. I was disgusted they would use such a rude stereotype. I shook my head.

Sherlock was playing with the hat, "Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?"

John looked at him, "It's a deer stalker." John grabbed the paper back from me and continued to read aloud as I got up, watching Sherlock try and figure out the hat.

"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do? Throw it?" Sherlock asked, looking to me.

I shrugged, "I don't know." I heard John reading from the newspaper.

"Some sort of death Frisbee." Sherlock said. I chuckled.

"Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful." John told us. Sherlock kept toying with the deerstalker.

"It's got flaps. Ear flaps. It's an ear hat, John." Sherlock told him. He Frisbee-d it to John, who caught it.

"What do you mean 'more careful'?" Sherlock asked him.

"I mean this isn't a deerstalker now; it's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that you're not exactly a private detective anymore." John told Sherlock. He held his thumb and pointer finger slightly apart, "You're this far from famous."

"It'll pass." Sherlock told him. I hoped it would pass; this was getting awfully out of hand. "Tully, we have to test that blood." Sherlock said, turning to me. I nodded and stood, following him to the lab.

"Are you okay, Sherlock?" I asked him as we entered the lab.

He looked back to me from the Petri dish of blood, "Why do you ask?" He questioned.

"Because, Sherlock, I'm your friend. And friends care about each other." I answered. He held my gaze for a split second before turning back to the dish.

"I'm fine." He told me.

I sighed. "Just be careful. Listen to John. Please." I told him. He nodded and we got to work.

* * *

It was a new day. Sherlock was in the lab, as always, and I was in the living room, listening to my iPod whilst reading. I heard Sherlock's phone and tugged out an earbud.

"I'll get it." John hissed, grabbing it and going to the lab. I listened to the conversation that followed.

"He's back." John finally said. The way he spoke…The fear in his voice. The breathing patterns. Whoever this man was, it was someone who had come into contact with the duo before.

_Jim Moriarty._

The name wafted through my mind. Sherlock had told me about him before, only for me to be frightened beyond belief. He was a tormentor, a manipulator…Perhaps even a child of the devil. I got up and walked to the lab as Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf. He looked to me and I saw something I had never seen in his eyes before. Fear. I knew who this was, he knew I knew. I nodded. _He_ frightened John, but he also frightened Sherlock. That was something. We all went downstairs and to get a cab, my hand brushing against Sherlock's as we clambered down the stairs. He took my trembling hand in his calm one without casting a glance to me. I didn't have a clue to where we were going, but it would be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

_Get Sherlock_

That image of Moriarty smashing the glass to the crown jewels haunted my dreams. I was not afraid of precious heirlooms getting stolen, I was not – in that dream – afraid of Moriarty, I was afraid of what might happen to Sherlock.

The first day of the trial had been long. Confusing. Odd. We all walked into the living room of 221B, taking seats on chairs. I sighed.

"Bank of England. Tower of London. Pentonville Prison. Three of the most secure places in the country and 6 weeks ago Moriarty breaks in. No one knows how or why." John spoke. Sherlock was pacing the room rapidly. I looked up at him.

"All we know is..." John continued.

"He ended up in custody." Sherlock answered. He looked to John and I.

"Don't do that." John told him.

"Do what?" Sherlock questioned.

"_The look_." John answered. John further explained the look and I tried thinking of what Sherlock knew...

"If Moriarty wanted the crown jewels, he'd have them. If he wanted the prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. The only reason he's still in a prison cell right now is because he wanted to be there." Sherlock told us. "This is all part of a scheme."

Sherlock and I sat in 221B. I sat on the couch and he was lying down, his head on my legs. I was reading quietly as he recited what the judge would say today. We hadn't gone. Well, John had, but I stayed behind with Sherlock. I decided to stay back because I couldn't leave him alone. All this Moriarty business was wrecking his mind. It was the least I could do.

"Guilty." He said in a whisper. I stroked his shoulder gently with my right hand. He sat up, "They must find him guilty." He remarked.

I looked up from my book, "They will." I told him trying to relax him. I needed to reassure him.

"I hope so." He murmured, lying back down, his head on my legs. He confided in me like this as a friend. It was calming, peaceful. He didn't treat it like something odd; he just treated it like the most natural thing in the world. I smiled, looking at him, his eyes closed deep in thought. Sherlock's phone rung and I retrieved it from the arm of the sofa that I was sitting against. He opened his eyes and I gave it to him as he put it on speaker.

"They found him not guilty." John said, talking. Sherlock froze. I put my book down and rubbed his shoulder. He was tensing up. He placed the phone down. "Sherlock, are you listening? He'll be out for you, you know? Sher-" Sherlock hung up the phone. He sat up and looked to me.

"Upstairs to your apartment. Now. Lock the door, don't make a sound." Sherlock told me.

"I'm going." I told him, leaving 221B.

It had been only a few minutes. I heard Sherlock's violin playing downstairs, and then it stopped with the sound of a creaky footstep. I shuddered. _He_ was here. I fetched a glass from the kitchen and placed it to the floor. Maybe it could work like those old wall tricks. I pressed my ear against it. Just muffled voices. I couldn't decipher it.

The talking stopped and I heard footsteps. There was a knock on my door, and Sherlock's voice called out, "Tully!"

I went to answer the door. Hopefully this was over. I answered it and Moriarty stood next to Sherlock. I jumped and Moriarty smirked, "Tully James." He greeted smoothly. He held out his hand and I looked to Sherlock. He nodded, and I took Jim's hand, shaking it.

Jim smiled, "Charmed. I've heard a bit about you, Miss James. Sherlock's little puppy dog." He told me, whimpering like a dog. I did not react.

"Following him everywhere. Like a _dog_." He smirked, trying to anger me.

"Considering what I've heard of you, Moriarty, I would call you a dog too. Obsessing over Sherlock." I answered back smartly, our faces only inches apart, "_Like a dog_." I whispered.

Jim smirked, turning to Sherlock, "I like her." He told him, pointing back to me with his thumb. He looked back to me, then to Sherlock, "Good day." He said calmly, walking away. We both heard the click of a closed front door and I breathed a heavy sigh.

Sherlock looked to me, "You'll see him again." He told me.

I looked back to Sherlock, "I know. I feel good though. I retaliated." I smiled.

Sherlock chuckled, "You called him a dog."

"He called me one first!" I said with a smile. "But that was so scary." I said.

Sherlock patted my back, "You have no reason to be afraid. I won't let him hurt you." He told me.


	3. Chapter 3

**I am terribly sorry this chapter took a while! I was caught up in other fanfiction (how terribly rude of me) but her's chapter 3!**

* * *

It had been weeks spent on a case about 2 missing children. It calmed Sherlock – if that made any sense. But now, suspicions were unearthing. Suspicions which involved Sherlock and the children. Accusing him like that of something he would never do just for a case! He's better than that and I know he is. Now they were here at 221B. For him.

I watched Sherlock as he pulled on his coat and scarf. The door downstairs was unlocking. He looked to me, and I placed my right hand on his cheek. It was warm, only gently kissed by the cold. He smiled softly and I smiled back, it was bittersweet. I pressed my head against his and our noses touched slightly. "I'll be careful." He reassured me, even before I asked. Lestrade burst through the door. I nodded, and Sherlock held out his arms.

"Sherlock Holmes, you're under arrest for suspicion of abduction and kidnapping." Lestrade announced, putting handcuffs on him. I watched as Sherlock was dragged away, John coming next to me. Sally came into the room, looking smug. I glared at her. _She_ had done this.

"You done?" John asked her.

"Oh, I said it." Sally told us. "First time we met. 'Solving crimes won't be enough. One day he'll cross the line.'" Sally told John, "Now, you two, ask yourselves: what sort of man would kidnap kids just to make himself look good?" Sally asked us. I went to lunge at her, but John grabbed my arm, taking me back.

The Chief Superintendant walked into the apartment, turning to Sally, "Donavan."

"Sir." She replied.

"Got our man?"

"Yes, sir."

"Looked a bit of a weirdo if you ask me." The chief remarked.

"Oh, he is sir. Real odd one, he is. Doesn't belong." Sally told him, casting a glance with a smirk to me. I tightened my fists.

"Often are; these vigilante types." The chief added. John glared at him. "What are you looking at?" The chief asked. John and I leaptedout at the chief and Sally. I gave Sally a bloody nose in vengeance, and it felt great.

But soon enough, John and I were slammed onto a police car. I was on Sherlock's right. "Who did what?" Sherlock asked.

"I punched the chief." John told him.

"I gave Sally what she deserved. A punch in the face." I told him.

He looked to me, "I've been meaning to do that for ages, thank you Tully." He looked around; I could tell at that moment he had an idea.

"Tully, take my hand." He told me. I clutched his hand, listening to Sherlock. Sherlock reached through the window of the car and grabbed the radio dispatcher and pressed down on a button, emitting a squeal of feedback. Sherlock whipped around and grabbed the gun from the officer behind us who was in pain, clutching at his ear piece. He raised the gun in the air, dragging my arm with him, then he aimed it at the nearby officers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please get on your knees." Sherlock told them. Nobody reacted and he raised the gun to the air, shooting twice.

"Now would be good!" He yelled. Everyone kneeled once Lestrade told them to. Sherlock and his plans never seized to astound me.

"Just so you're aware, me and um- her, are just-just-" John started to explain to the crowd before Sherlock held a gun to his head.

"My hostages." He announced.

"Hostages! That's just- yep, we're hostages." I told the crowd. We backed away from the crowd and around a corner.

"What now?" John asked Sherlock.

"What Moriarty wants – I'm becoming a fugitive." Sherlock told us. "Now run." He turned and we all started to run rapidly down the street. We weaved all throughout the streets and down alleyways, Sherlock always telling us what to do.

I felt sorry for him. Moriarty was toying with him like a puppet on a string, and that wasn't a good thing (obviously). I just wanted Sherlock to be safe. I loved the thrill of the chase, don' get me wrong, but sometimes…Sometimes I thought maybe I could have a calm life. Not completely apple-pie-sunshine-lollipops but something that didn't involve a consulting criminal in our lives. It sounded crazy, but I just wanted Sherlock to be happy with me. Not like we are now (even though this is perfect), but I wanted for him to plant kisses on my nose, whisper things into my ear while I tried to sleep, for him to hold me after a long day when I was tired. I wanted him to feel the same way.

But, being the consulting detective, I had to keep my feelings hidden at all costs otherwise he'd know. I had a feeling he knew that I liked him already, but if he knew I loved him...That wouldn't be good.

We all made our way to the residence of Kitty (after Sherlock had a major breakthrough after almost being hit by a bus), the news reporter Sherlock had encountered. We sat in the dark of her apartment, waiting for her to return.

Sherlock and I still clutched to each others' hand. It felt so natural and it calmed me. I hoped it calmed him too. It was cold in Kitty's apartment, and I shuddered. I felt Sherlock scoot closer to me and whisper something in my ear, "You're cold. I can't give you my jacket at the moment so I'll just huddle." He told me. I nodded, "You're also slightly stressed."

"Stop deducing me." I told him quietly.

"Relax." He replied. He rubbed his thumb over my hand calmingly and I felt myself relaxing. Then the lights flipped on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello readers! Let me just say I am so, so sorry for not updating this in forever. I was swept away with other fics and school and this story got neglected. I apologize profusely!**

* * *

Not long after that, Sherlock, John and I were standing in the middle of the living room while Kitty sat in an armchair. "Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock huffed to her. He was picking the lock on his own handcuff. His hand came free and he gave the hairclip he had used to John.

"The scoop that everybody wanted and you got it, bravo!" Sherlock stated.

"I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember?" Kitty retaliated. "You turned me down, so..."

As they continued to bicker, my mind drifted. How could Sherlock be tumbling down this hole of danger and public shame? Was it because the public didn't understand? Did no one understand how mind tricking it must've been? Even for Sherlock? Obviously not.

John passed the hairclip to me as Kitty and Sherlock continued to argue. I picked my lock and my handcuff dropped to the floor. But that was when I heard the rustling of an open door and turned to see a hauntingly familiar person come through the door.

"Love, they didn't have ground coffee so I just got normal..." He mumbled until he looked up and around.

Jim Moriarty.

I felt my fists ball up. He was the cause of this. He must've been. All the anger inside me was spreading like wildfire.

Jim backed away from Sherlock, fear tainting his eyes. It was fake; all of it.

"You said that they wouldn't find me here. You said that I'd be safe here." Jim quivered. I rolled my eyes, trying to keep calm.

"You _are_ safe, Richard. I'm a witness. He wouldn't harm you in front of witnesses."

John, astonished, pointed at Jim, "So that's your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?" He glared at Jim angrily.

"Of course he's Richard Brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been." Kitty retaliated. I hated Kitty.

"What are you talking about?" John asked.

"Look him up. Rich Brook – an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty." Kitty said.

"No. That isn't true. This man is like a puppet master; tricking us all." I growled, staring with fire-filled eyes at Jim. He was afraid, or was at least acting like it.

"No, please, Dr Watson, Detective James, you're both good people. _He's_ tricking _you_." Jim told us. Anger surged through me and I took angry steps toward him and he backed away against a wall, "Stop it! Just-just stop it now! Sherlock would never do these things, you're lying." I growled, our noses almost touching.

John wrenched me back and Kitty glared at me, "You stay away from him, you brainwashed dog." She hissed.

"Don't call her that! Tully, stay out of this, Kitty, leave her be!" Sherlock yelled. I looked back to him, and his face was red with anger. I felt downsized and I stepped away from Jim.

"Please, Detective James, he's convinced you that he is who he is. He's charmed you to think he's good, but he's not. He hired me." Jim told me.

"No. No, you're Moriarty. We met." I growled.

John continued, "No, she's right, he's Moriarty!" John pointed at Jim angrily, then looked to Kitty, then back to Jim, "We've met, you were going to blow me apart!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Jim whimpered, head in hands. I wasn't swaying to sympathy. "He paid me. I'm an actor, I needed the work." He said, pointing at Sherlock. I felt my fists tighten and then a hand grab mine. I looked to Sherlock and his eyes were telling me a million things. But mainly he was telling me to control myself. I un-balled my fist and he blinked in thanks.

John turned back to Sherlock, "Sherlock, you'd better explain…I'm not getting any of this."

"Oh I'll ... I'll be doing the explaining – in print." Kitty beamed with an almost evil beam. She handed John a folder, "It's all here – conclusive proof." Kitty looked up to Sherlock, "You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis." She said, ever so pleased with herself. I was withholding to punch her, but I had pulled my hand away from Sherlock's anyway.

"Invented him?" John asked.

"That's the biggest load of sh-" I started before Kitty spoke.

"Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain." Kitty said.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" John flared.

"Ask him. He's right here! Just ask him. Tell him, Richard." Kitty looked to Richard.

"He was on trial!" John yelled.

"Yes." She pointed to Sherlock and I took place next to him. "And you paid him; paid him to take the rap. Promised you'd rig the jury. Not exactly a West End role, but I bet the money was good."

Kitty took her place next to Jim and slung an arm around him, "But not so good he didn't want to sell his story."

Jim apologized profusely to John and I cast a glance to Sherlock. He was slowly bursting at the seams, I could sense it in his eyes. Once so calm, so happily investigating things, curious for how the puzzle pieces of a case fitted together in perfect harmony to concoct the perfect murder.

But now they were clouded by small bursts of anger. I took his hand and he looked to me. He mouthed a thank you.

"The big conclusion to all this? That Moriarty's an actor?" John asked.

"I am! I swear! Kitty, show him something!" Jim told her.

Kitty went to her bag to get more 'evidence' and John watched her. Jim, who had his hands covering his face, took them away and looked to Sherlock with an evil gleam in his eyes, forgetting the Richard Brook persona he'd adopted. Sherlock gripped my hand tightly in anger.

Kitty came back with a folder with Jim's fake resume and many more things.

"I'm…I'm the Storyteller. It's on DVD." Jim said, slipping back into his Richard identity. He looked to Sherlock, "Just tell them. It's all coming out now. It's all over. Just tell them. Just tell them. Tell them!" He flared.

Sherlock left my side and angrily stormed over to Jim. "No!" Jim shouted. "Don't touch me! Don't you dare lay a finger on me!" Jim yelled, backing up the stairs. John and I looked to each other, then followed Sherlock up the stairs following Moriarty.

"Leave him alone!" Kitty yelled.

"Shut your mouth, Kitty!" I yelled, following them.

Jim ran into the bathroom, and Sherlock tried the door handle, failing. It then opened, but Jim was already gone.

No. This wasn't happening.

"No, he'll have back up." Sherlock growled.

"D'you know what, Sherlock Holmes?" Kitty asked. We all turned and trumped down the stairs. Sherlock faced her and she continued, "I look at you now and I can read you. And you…Repel…Me." She said. Sherlock pushed past her, John following.

I stayed and looked at her. "It's dangerous befriending such an evil man." I told her.

She paused, then spoke, "I might say the same to you, Detective James." She told me.

I growled, "Sherlock is a good man." I told her, then I kicked her, following the guys outside.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is really short, but I really wanted to get it up haha. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

I ran out to Sherlock and John on the street. Sherlock, who had obviously been talking with John, looked up to see me, "What took you so long?"

"I had a word with Kitty." I answered. Sherlock gazed into my eyes and smirked, knowing what I had done absolutely perfectly as he looked at the way I stood. But then his gaze shifted with a realization, and he started off, "There's something I need to do! Alone!" He called over his shoulder.

John and I stood on the street, the noises of a busy London whirring past us.

"I think I know who we have to visit." John murmured to me.

"_You_, John. I'm sorry, but I'm off home. That package that Sherlock received...I-I need to look into it." I told him. He nodded and turned in the other direction, "I'll call when we need you!" He shouted over his shoulder.

I nodded and walked the streets home alone. The silence prodded and poked me, as if it knew something bad would happen. I walked down alleyways and dimly lit streets, the cold air befriending and the stars and moon above guiding me home.

The police had all gone, by now. I gripped the keys in my back pocket and opened the door into the apartment building, going up to 221B. The door was still wide open, so as soon as I got in, I closed it with a thud.

Danger clung to Sherlock like a moth to a light. Forever lingering and never disappearing, like the thought of a bad memory or a nightmare that haunted you for eternity. I couldn't hope for his safety anymore; because it didn't seem like that would be a reality anytime soon.

I picked up the package Sherlock had received shortly before we had been arrested. It was from Moriarty, no doubt, and it was a gingerbread man. Burned to a crisp.

Sherlock was telling me in my mind to put the puzzle pieces together.

It was just a sign for danger, like an oncoming storm. All this fear for Sherlock was tossing itself in my stomach.

After a while, I headed to Bart's after receiving a message from Sherlock. I had arrived a little later and I saw Sherlock rapidly rolling a ball on the floor. John had already fallen asleep in a chair, so I sat next to the consulting detective on the floor.

"Hi." I greeted solemnly.

"Hello." Sherlock greeted back.

"Can we talk?" I asked him. He nodded. I could tell this was sincere; if he didn't want to talk he'd just snap at me that he was busy with the case. "Listen, I'm really worried about you. I know it's stupid, but I am. I mean, Moriarty is convincing them that you're bad and I just-" I started.

Sherlock hushed me instantly, "Yes, I realize. But this will all be over soon." He told me gently. I nodded and he took off his coat and draped it over my shoulders, holding me.

"I just want you to be safe." I said.

"But what's fun in being safe?" He murmured in my ear as I shut my eyes.

* * *

I awoke at Bart's only a few hours later, Sherlock still holding me. Pretending to still be asleep, I snuggled closer to his chest. He was sleep deprived, obviously. My newly opened eyes met his and I smiled, "Good morning."

"You had a nightmare." He told me. I nodded, remembering what my nightmare was. I had been running from Moriarty. "You mumbled Moriarty's name multiple times." He said.

"Sorry."

"Don't be scared, we'll have this all over soon enough." He told me. I nodded and John awoke to the ringing of his phone.


	6. Chapter 6

John snapped out of his sleep and I clutched Sherlock's hand, suddenly needing that closeness. Sherlock rubbed his thumb over my hand, not pulling away.

"Yeah, speaking." John murmured into the phone. He suddenly sounded shocked, "Er, what?" John leaped to his feet, "What happened? Is she okay?... Oh my God. Right, yes, I'm coming." John put away his phone.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"Paramedics. Mrs. Hudson – she's been shot."

I panicked. No, Mrs. Hudson was nice and kind and in an odd way, wise.

"What? How?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, probably one of the killers you managed to attract ... Jesus. Jesus. She's dying, Sherlock. Let's go." John said, going to the door. I got up quickly and followed. Sherlock wasn't following.

"You go, I'm busy." Sherlock told us. I turned to look at him. I loved Sherlock, yes, but sometimes he would be so careless and cruel.

"What?" I asked.

"Busy?" John repeated, astonished.

"Thinking. I need to think." Sherlock told us.

"You need to ...? Doesn't she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her." John told him.

"I'll go get a cab." I said to John, leaving. I left Bart's and hailed a cab, John joining me moments later, with no Sherlock in sight.

"He's a machine." John told me.

"He can be at times. Well let's go; I hope she's alright." I told him, getting in the cab.

The cab soon pulled up at 221B and we hopped out frantically, rushing to the door and unlocking it. We ran in and we saw Mrs. Hudson standing next to a man drilling a hole in the wall.

No, something was wrong; she should've been here with paramedics. Oh dear God, something was wrong. John ran to her and started conversation as I watched on helplessly. He ran out the door and I followed.

"Something's wrong!" He shouted back to me, shouting for another cab.

"No kidding!" I shouted back, running after him and bundling into the cab.

We soon came back to Bart's and John's phone rung.

"Hello?" John asked into the phone as we walked to Bart's. He paused, then put the phone on speaker. "It's Sherlock." John told me. I nodded.

"You ok, Sherlock?" I asked him.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came now." Sherlock instructed.

"No, we're coming in." John protested.

"Just do as I ask. Please." Sherlock pleaded. We walked back a little, "Stop there."

"Sherlock?" John asked, panicking a little.

"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop." Sherlock said. The words echoed in my head as I gazed up.

"Sherlock!" I grabbed the phone from John, "Get down right now, whatever's wrong-"

"I can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this." Sherlock spoke. He looked down at John and I as we clutched the phone in our shaking hands.

"What? What's going on?" John asked.

"An apology. It's all true." Sherlock told us.

"What?" We both asked.

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty." Sherlock continued. No. No that wasn't true, why would he put himself through so much turmoil? No, it wasn't possible.

"Sherlock stop this right now." I growled into the phone, feeling a hot tear run down my steaming cheeks.

"I can't Tully. I'm sorry, but I'm a fake." He told me. "Tell everyone and anyone that will listen, you two. _I invented Moriarty._"

"No. No you're not and you didn't." John said, "The first time we met, you knew all about my sister."

"Nobody could be that clever." Sherlock told John solemnly. This wasn't Sherlock. This was a side I rarely saw of him. This was fear, I could tell from his voice. This was fear and sadness and regret all mixed like a cocktail in his voice.

"You could." John told him. Sherlock laughed a little.

"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. Just a magic trick." Sherlock told him.

"No. Stop this, Sherlock, stop it now!" John told him angrily. He started to walk to the entrance of Bart's and I followed. We had to get him off the roof.

"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move." Sherlock told us. We stood still, another tear rolling down my cheek.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me." Sherlock told us. "Please, will you do this for me?" He asked frantically.

"Sherlock, what's this about?" I asked, my voice quavering.

"This phone call – it's, er ... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?" Sherlock asked.

"Leave a note when?" John asked.

"Good bye John." Sherlock said. "Good bye, Tully." He told me, his own voice trembling.

Suicide. This was his suicide. A sob racked my body and my knees felt weak. He spread his arms out plummeted to the ground.

My heart stopped beating and everything seemed to slow down, as if wanting me to remember that moment for the rest of my life. It felt like death, grabbing me with hollowness and tears. I watched him as John shouted out his name and another sob racked my body. A secret lingered on my lips, not leaving them. _I love you, Sherlock_. I never had told him that, and now I never could. John stared forth with disbelief, then looked back at me, holding me as I felt my knees collapse under me.

"John," I sobbed, "John that didn't-" my breaths were quick, "that didn't happen."

"Come on." He says, helping me up. We started to run around a building hiding our view and then a bike rider slammed into both of us. I fell down, but I wasn't unconscious. But I stayed put, feeling numb, ad closed my eyes, only wanting to wake up from this terrible nightmare I was living. John got up a few moments later and dragged me along.

We came over to Sherlock's body and more tears came down my cheek. I couldn't look at it, so I turned away.

* * *

_I stared at Sherlock. His eyes seemed only inches away, but he was far up on a building and I was on the ground. "Sherlock, please." I whimpered._

"_I'm so sorry." He told me, his voice a whisper in my ear. He jumped._

"_Sherlock!" I screamed._

I opened my eyes wide awake and sat up in bed, scared and panting. "Sherlock…" I whimpered, clenching my teeth. I wanted someone here with me now. John had fallen asleep a while ago, and I had tromped up to my apartment, every step heavy with grief.

But I was alone. And no amount of begging would bring him back.


	7. Epilogue

**Hey guys! So yeah, this is the last chapter of TUDOSH. Tudosh, huh, it has a pronounceable acronym. **

**So there is a one shot series planned after this, so follow me to keep posted on that! Anyways, thanks for reading, love you all.**

* * *

Mrs Hudson, John and I sat in silence on the way to the cemetery. I was listening to my iPod, which played 'I Miss You' by Blink 182. The loss of Sherlock tore at our hearts and minds, and I was fighting back tears I had encased deep within my breaking heart.

When we arrived at the cold cemetery grounds, we walked to his grave. And there, in gold lettering on a black tombstone, read: SHERLOCK HOLMES. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, and my heart sank. Mrs Hudson started to rave on about her anger about Sherlock leaving body parts in the fridge, but I just thought quietly to myself.

All those times I had shared with him: The one time when he came to my place to comfort me when he heard my cries. The times he complimented my deductions. The first crime we solved. The time I admitted to myself I was in love with him.

My pain clawed at my mind like the hallucinated hounds in Baskerville Sherlock had told me about clawing at a man. Mrs Hudson and I left John to say a few private words with him and we talked amongst ourselves.

"I don't want to believe it." I murmured.

"His death?" Mrs Hudson asked. I shuddered at the word.

"Yes, but all of it. Moriarty was real. It's just that the stupid people who live in this country choose to believe the devil's lies. John and I don't believe that Sherlock was telling the truth before he..."

I found it hard to choke out the words but Mrs Hudson nodded, "I understand."

I looked up to see John walking away from his grave, tears rolling down his cheeks. Without warning I went up to him and hugged him tightly, my own tears spilling onto his jacket. He hugged me back and cried into my shoulder, before pulling away and nodding for me to go to his grave. I trembled wit every step.

I walked over to his grave and sighed. The tears started to roll down my cheeks and I tried fighting them back.

"My dear Sherlock," I started shakily, "It...It was a pleasure to know you. I'm proud to say that you mentored me in a way. And I'm also proud to say that I'm your friend. But not having you here with us...I'm...Dying on the inside. I try to be strong, but...I'm not that strong anymore." I admitted for his dead ears only. "And every morning now I just wake up, and that intelligent, smug, charming," I smiled for a split second, "friend of mine downstairs just isn't there anymore."

I let my tears go down my cheeks without hesitation, "I'll never forget you, my consulting detective." I let out shakily. Now was a good a time as ever to tell his dead ears, "I love you. I promise to visit again." I said as if waiting for an answer. No answer came from his dead lips and I cried even more. I went back to John and Mrs Hudson, burying my heartbreak deep within my soul.

* * *

**Sherlock's POV:**

I had heard everything. The graveyard was quiet and silent, and the confessions echoed throughout. I had known Tully...Loved me, but hearing it from her soft, weeping voice proved it true. And John. Poor John; my closest friend. I could hardly bear to watch. I wanted with all my heart to tell them I was fine, but I couldn't. For their safety I couldn't. Not yet anyway.

But all these emotions weaken me, and I must bury my feelings for Tully deep within my soul. On one hand, I wanted to just hold her in my arms and let my heart speak instead of my head. But on the other hand, I needed to stay silent about it. I couldn't love Tully; I thought it impossible for me to have emotions toward love, but I do. I did love her, and it silently killed me that I had to see her in such an emotional wreck, John too. Now my feelings were at a constant war with my logic, and it seemed my logic was winning.


End file.
